


To Talk of Many Things

by Sphynx



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sphynx/pseuds/Sphynx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say the winners always write the history and most forget there are two sides to every story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

****Author's Note:**  The format of this story can be kind of confusing, so I will state this: Each story is in a different time line. Gellert's moves forward - from age six until age one hundred and thirteen. Albus', however, moves backward in time, going from age one hundred and fifteen to age ten. Their time lines will meet in one particular spot - the duel. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it :) Reviews are greatly appreciated!**

**Gellert** **  
**Six Years Old** **

The first time Gellert hates a Muggle, he is six years old. His family lives in a small village in Eastern Europe, a place that housed magical and non-magical families alike. There isn't much to the small town – a few local shops, a tailor, a bar, and a small church. The church is an important part of the community and was a place everyone attends, where everyone is a part of the same family. As a small child, Gellert remembers feeling safe in the church. Through the beauty of the songs and the calm, comforting voice of the minister, Gellert thinks he can find peace. Peace away from his dominating and intimidating Papa and his shy, quiet, fretting, too-timid Mama.

The minister, Kaufmann, is a friend of the Grindelwald's and he comes for dinner monthly. Papa always makes generous donations to the church and the minister seems grateful. Gellert sits quietly and listens to the adults talk amongst themselves, though he rarely pays attention. He isn't interested in the wrong-doings of the community, so he amuses himself with his own thoughts about life; still, he remains, the sounds of their conversation comforting. Gellert longs to leave the small village, and he can't wait until he's old enough to attend school. He's heard about Durmstrang, the school Papa attended – he knows the education he receives there will just be his first lesson in glory.

Even at age six, Gellert knows he is going to be something important.

As dinner finishes, Kaufmann brings his napkin to his mouth and gives a sigh. "That was the best dinner I have had in ages!" he exclaims, beaming at Mama. She turns pink and gives him a grateful smile. It isn't unusual; young as he is, Gellert doesn't miss the looks that shoot between the minister and Mama when Papa isn't looking.

Kaufmann is okay, Gellert thinks, but he is a Muggle and doesn't seem to be worth the trouble Mama puts into him.

As Mama finishes with the kitchen, Papa turns to Kaufmann. "Shall we proceed to the study? I have a few things you might be interested in taking a look at."

Kaufmann declines with a shake of his head. "I really must be going. I want to thank you again for the lovely dinner. Your wife is certainly the best cook I know."

Gellert doesn't see the need to listen any further, so as Mama walks Kaufmann outside, he returns to his bedroom. As he is getting dressed for bed, he hears them murmuring through his bedroom window. He creeps up to it, standing on his tip-toes to peek outside. Their backs are turned toward the house; he is not in danger of being caught.

Kaufmann's voice is low as he answers Mama. "We can't continue this, Iren," he says, looking downward. It is only then Gellert notices their hands are clasped together. "It is becoming too dangerous to keep this up. Hinrich is bound to find out something sooner or later and I have a reputation to uphold."

Mama's voice took a pouty tone Gellert had never heard rom her. "You love me, Jan. You can not deny that."

"I do," Kaufmann sounds pained. "God help me, I do. Love, however, doesn't make this right. You've led me to sin . . ." He bends over and brushes his lips against her cheek. Gellert can hardly stifle a gasp.

"We can leave. We can go somewhere where we aren't recognized and settle down. Gellert is young and he won't mind moving. You two look enough alike that you could pass for father and son, and no one would ever know the difference."

"We could marry . . ." Kaufmann's voice sounded just as hopeful as Mama's had seconds earlier. He doesn't give a definite response, but steps away and off of the family porch. Gellert watches as they walk and his eyes widen in horror and excitement as the final step breaks under Kaufmann's weight. His leg falls through and he lets out a howl of distressed pain. Mama is rushing toward his side, her words lost to Gellert as she tries to calm Kaufmann.

The wound from the porch is significant. A large splinter has jammed itself into Kaufmann's leg and blood is pouring from the wound – Gellert can see it even from his hiding place. Mama is panicking and trying to staunch the wound with her skirts. She's pale in the moonlight, her hands shining bright red with his blood. Kaufmann is shaking, staring down at his wounded leg with terrified eyes. There is no time to call a doctor. Gellert watches in horror as Mama pulls her wand from her skirts and utters a spell. All at once, the leg straightens, mends and the blood stops.

If Mama is expecting a look of gratitude, she is sorely mistaken. Kaufmann stares at her as if she has grown a second head. He scrambles from her, looking at his now healed leg and up at her wand. His eyes are wide and panicky. "That was witchcraft," he says, his voice shaking with rage and confusion. Mama drops her wand and reaches for him, but Kaufmann moves away. "I see now. It makes sense; you bewitched me."

"I never -"

"There's no denying it." His voice is cold. Mama says nothing, but drops her hands and backs away as Kaufmann flees the Grindelwald household. Gellert scrambles back in bed before she enters the house. He furrows his brow, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

The Muggle knew they were wizards. Nothing good can come from this.

The next day, Sunday, is anything but peaceful.

Kaufmann stands before his congregation and surveys them with cold, calculating eyes. It's the downfall of a Muggle finding out about magic; once they know, they become suspicious and trust no one. "I have received proof," he says toward the end of his sermon. "That we have a legitimate witch in our midst. She is a cunning thing and while she may seem harmless from the outside, I assure you, she is a highly dangerous individual."

A few women, all witches themselves, squirm in their seats.

"Last night, I had dinner with the Grindelwald's. I have been to their house on multiple occasions and have always had a pleasant time. Last night, as I was leaving, Iren Grindelwald asked to speak to me privately. I believed she wanted to speak with me concerning her faith, but I was wrong. She began to speak in a tongue I did not recognize, and I felt myself become dizzy. No doubt she was enchanting me."

Mama sank in her seat, her blue eyes brimming with tears. Next to her, Papa's eyes were focused on the minister as he listened, his posture straight and sure; Gellert has to wonder what lies Kaufmann has told him. He sits with his hands clenched, silently fuming next to Papa.

"Now, we knows what the Bible says about witchcraft, and that it expressively forbids the practice. I have spoken with her husband and he assures me she can repent. We will bring this woman back to the Lord."

Gellert has had enough. He stands in his seat and glares at the minister. "You lie!" he shouts.

"You were not bewitched! You were talking of marrying Mama and running away with us. You broke your leg and were bleeding to death! Mama saved your life, you lying coward!"

A sharp tug from Papa has him falling backward in his seat.

"She has even deluded the child!" Kaufmann exclaimed, his eyes boring into Gellert's own. In that moment, Gellert realizes he hates this man. He hates him for hurting his mother, he hates him for hating magic, and he hates him for making them hide.

It is the day Gellert loses his faith in God. Why would God have given something only to tell him it was wrong? That isn't free will. It's damnation.

Gellert and Mama leave the village the following day. Papa doesn't say a word as they gather their belongings; he stands with his arms crossed, watching. It is the beginning of a new period, one Gellert never quite loses his fondness of. For the rest of his life, Gellert will never quite feel at home without the need to travel.

**Albus** **  
**One Hundred Fifteen** **

Gellert,

My apologies for the seemingly random timing of this letter; no doubt it must bring you a fare bit of confusion. I am well aware that we have not spoken for close to twenty years. For me those years have been long and eventful; although I am sure you would choose mine over yours in a heartbeat. I admit, old friend, if I had a chance to switch places, I believe I would. I may be, as you told me so long ago "The Great and Mighty Dumbledore," but I think I would like to retire from the position.

Secluded though you are, you must have heard of the return of Lord Voldemort. He is just as powerful and dangerous as he was before, and I dare say, just as stupid. He has no intention other than to gain power and no real motivation to drive him. His only concern is ridding himself of Harry Potter, but his methods of elimination are choppy, self-centered and half-hearted at best. He has never had the fire to drove him the way you did. Should he succeed, the world will not be a better place. I shudder to think of what would (and  _could_ ) happen should that occur.

I write to you now, Gellert, because I realize I do not have much time left. I am a fool, as much as I ever was. Wisdom may come with age, but I make mistakes with the rest of them. I found it. I found the Ring. In my hunt for artifacts of Voldemort's (artifacts I have more than enough proof to think are Horcruxes) I discovered a family heirloom of the Gaunt's. I knew what it was the moment I picked it up. I shoved it upon my finger, thinking for a moment I was to see my family again. I confess I do not remember much after; it was only a matter of the quick work of my potions master that I am still writing to you now.

I must kill a child, Gellert, a bright, handsome boy that has been given a task far ahead of his sixteen years. He looks up to me and admires me and trusts me. He is more than just a student to me Gellert. He is the closest thing I will ever have to a son or a grandchild. I told myself years ago not to get attached. I have known since his birth that this boy was doomed to be in Voldemort's plan. While I know that his death will bring about the downfall of a Dark Lord, I can not help but wish there were an easier way. I do not expect you to understand – you never had a problem with killing to better the world. I do not fault you for it. I am, in fact, jealous. I wish such things came easy to me as well.

I wish there were an easier way, that there might be a chance for Harry to survive. He deserves everything. He is probably the most selfless person I have ever met, and he deserves to live out a long and happy life.

As I think of what Harry deserves, I think of my own past and the regrets I have. A man my age should not have many regrets, but I do. I regret what I must do to this child. I regret I could not stop it from happening in the first place. I regret I did not see Tom Riddle for what he was before it became too late. I regret the tepid at best relationship I have with my brother. He has never quite forgiven me for what happened when we were children. I do not blame him.

Most of all, I regret you.

Do not take that as offensively as I know you are. I do not regret you as a person, but I regret what happened between us. I admit I knew you were using me when we were young, but I was just as much using you. I figured as long as I kept you happy, you would never leave me alone. I was only too thrilled to let you continue to drag me along.

It was rather pathetic if I dwell upon it.

I doubt you will ever realize how deep my affections truly were. While you may never forgive me for what I did, please know I did what I thought was right by putting you in prison. I was trying to keep you alive, Gellert. I could not bear watching a brilliant mind as yours die.

If that says nothing to how I still feel for you, I do not know what does.

I admit, sometimes I regret not following you. It would have been an adventure and one that would have been only too welcome by me. Instead, you went by yourself to become a great dreamer and conqueror and I became a school teacher. I like to think I was a good professor. A patient one. As I grow older, I wonder if that is anywhere near the truth.

I am one-hundred fifteen years old and I am sacrificing a child to save a world. One life. On bright, optimistic, brilliant life to save an entire world. And for what? Look above your door, Gellert. I still live by those damned, cursed words.

I digress.

I hope this letter finds you well, or as well as you will ever be.

In addition, I come with a warning. After my inevitable death (do not give me that look, the one I know you are making. I have it planned; I know I am to die.), Voldemort will come for you. He searches for a wand to beat Potter's – he will trace It back to you. Do not fight him, Gellert. He will kill you. It may be now or it may be a year, but he will come for you. Be ready. Be prepared.

Do not lie.

I do not need another death on my conscious.

_Albus Dumbledore_

**Gellert**

**Sixteen Years Old**

Gellert is sixteen years old when he meets the brilliant mind that is Albus Dumbledore. He has only taken residence with his great-aunt Bathilda for a little over a week when the boy comes over. He isn't anything that would normally attract Gellert's eye; he's tall and thin, with auburn hair that falls to his elbows. But the intensity and brilliance that fumes behind those blue eyes (so sadly hidden behind frames) are what makes Gellert give him a second glance.

He gives Gellert the barest of glances, obviously used to people telling him he'll get along splendidly with others only to be disappointed. Albus gives Gellert a small, polite smile but Gellert isn't fooled. This boy is brilliant. This boy is  _bored_. Gellert simply stands there in silence and observes him, watching the way he reacts to Bathilda's questions about his life. He is polite in every answer, but there is always some hesitancy, always something that he's holding back.

Bathilda stuffs his arms full of books and papers. "These are my essays for the book I'm writing." She says, her face beaming at him. "If I'm lucky, perhaps it will be a school book!"

"Perhaps." Albus says, and he scans over the essays in front of him. Gellert can see he's actually interested in them, even if only mildly. Bathilda beams at him and disappears into her kitchen. There are sounds of drawers and cabinets opening, but she still doesn't return. Albus sighs. "I hope she does not plan to feed me."

Gellert gives him a rather surprised look. "You would object?"

"It isn't her place to keep my family fed."

He opens his mouth to ask the reason, but his aunt chooses this moment to return. As Albus had feared, she has a large basket that is full of bread and other small pantry items. Albus starts to protest, but Bathilda cuts him off with a raised hand. "You need it more than I, Albus. I am going to the market in the morning and I can replenish. You take care of that family."

Albus swallows and looks down at the basket, nodding silently. As he leaves, Bathilda heaves a small sigh and gives Gellert a sad smile. "That poor boy. I do hope you two will get along. You're very close in age and Albus needs a friend."

Gellert can't imagine why. He raises an eyebrow and asks, "Poor boy? What's wrong with him?" Pity was radiating off of this woman; he was curious to know what could possibly merit that much emotion.

Bathilda looks outside and then back toward Gellert. "Well, his mother died only a few weeks ago, and his father won't be coming around. That's another story . . . " His aunt looks mildly uncomfortable at the mention of the neighbor's father. "Anyway, his mother was killed in an accident a short while back and Albus just graduated from Hogwarts. He has two younger siblings, you see, and his little sister . . . She's a dear thing, but very frail. Constantly needs someone to watch her. Albus is possibly the most brilliant boy I've ever met," She stops to smile at Gellert. "Save for you, of course, but he's fantastic with a wand and already winning so many awards . . . Well, we figured he'd be off doing something grand outside of school. Instead, he has to stay at home, at least until Aberforth graduates, and that won't be for another two years."

Gellert listens through her rant and actually finds himself interested.

It isn't long before Bathilda has her wish. Gellert clicks with the English boy in a way he's never found before. Albus isn't like anyone Gellert has ever met. He's just as brilliant as Bathilda made him out to be – at eighteen years old, he has already accomplished more than most of the adults Gellert knows. Head Boy of his year at Hogwarts, award winning Transfigurist and youth ambassador to the Wizengamont, Albus had much going for him and more potential in his pinky than most students of their age combined.

Yet, due to the recent death of his mother, Albus is trapped in Godric's Hallow to attend to his siblings. He says nothing to Gellert about it and always attends to them without complaint. But Gellert can tell he's bothered by his life here. He wants something more. It is because of this, Gellert takes the biggest chance of his life: he explains his plans to Albus.

"You wish to find the Hallows?" Albus asks in surprise as Gellert finishes speaking. "I understand the allure, but why the passion?"

Gellert frowns. "Shouldn't everyone with a goal be passionate about it?"

"Of course, but I see something behind it." Albus says quietly, his eyes focused on the symbol Gellert has drawn on a piece of parchment. "When you speak of the Hallows, you speak of them in a manner that suggest finding them is not the end of your goal. They're only the means, only the start. What else do you have planned?"

Gellert blinks at him. Albus raises his head to grin. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"You . . . are, yes"

"So, what's the plan?"

That earns Albus an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to know?"

Gellert doesn't miss the slight hesitation in Albus' voice as he answers. "Tell me."

So Gellert does. He tells him of his plans to find the Hallows and how they're instrumental in his final goal – overthrowing the Statute of Secrecy. Wizards would make themselves known to Muggles, and Muggles would finally learn their place. While not necessarily a dictatorship, Gellert envisions Wizards would certainly be in power. Gellert watches Albus' face intently, looking for signs of horror or disgust. Instead, he finds Albus' eyes have lit up and he seems intrigued.

"You don't think I'm mad?"

"On the contrary, I think it is a brilliant idea." Albus leans back in his seat, resting his hands in his lap. "I've long thought the Statute was in desperate need of revising. We're long past the days of witch hunts and burnings. Keeping us in the dark from Muggles is only hurting us. Both sides have experiences and things we could teach the other."

"You speak from experience. You've thought about this."

One shoulder lifts in a shrug. "I have my opinions on the matter. This isn't the first time I've thought of this."

"You would agree?" Gellert asks, hesitantly touching upon the topic. Albus nods and leans forward.

"You think you can find the Hallows?"

"I know I can. I have leads on the Elder wand, but it's going to take some time to plan on them. The wand is the most important, of course. With the wand, I'd – we'd have no trouble from anyone who opposes. After, the stone and last the cloak."

Albus is quiet, staring intently at Gellert before speaking. "I want to join you. I think I could be of help."

Weeks before, this idea would have only infuriated Gellert. He has always worked on his own, planned on his own. Instead, he finds himself grinning and nodding. "I think we could work together. Together, we could make a difference." He holds out his hand to Albus. "To partnership?"

The long fingered hand meet and clasp around his own. "To partnership."

It isn't long before Gellert is aware of the reason behind Albus' dislike of Muggles, and he is surprised to find it comes in the small and frail form of Ariana Dumbledore.

It has been a few weeks since he agreed to let Albus join him. Now that he has the other boy, Gellert has no idea how he thought he could ever do this alone. Albus is a quick thinker and has a natural patience that Gellert lacks. Gellert's impatience says "Let's leave now!" while Albus' says "Without planning, we will go nowhere." There have been some arguments and some tense moments, but overall, Gellert is overjoyed to have Albus. For the first time in his life, he has someone he can legitimately call his friend.

With Albus though, Gellert suspects it is something more. He isn't sure when Albus' attentions seemed to shift, but Gellert knows the boy has feelings for him that aren't friendship. It isn't obvious, certainly not like those silly girls from Durmstrang, but Gellert doesn't miss the lingering stares and the slight red tinge to Albus' cheeks when he catches him staring. The thought doesn't bother him; Gellert knows he's attractive and it would only be naïve to think he could attract only women.

After all, women have never been something Gellert has been interested in.

He neither encourages nor discourages Albus' affections and simply stores them away for a later time. He isn't sure himself how he feels about the other boy and only thinks of the possibility that Albus' attraction could possibly work in his favor. It's a horrible thought, Gellert knows. Then again, he never claimed to be a saint.

They've been up most of the night, making plans for their new regime. The more they talk and plan, the more Gellert becomes excited. As of now, they're discussing the pros and cons of allowing wizard and Muggles to marry. Albus suggests the marriages that are in effect should remain; after all, there's no use in breaking up a family. But after, the mixture of magical and Muggle blood should be banned. It's just past midnight and Albus' eyes are starting to droop. Gellert is gathering his papers and is saying his goodbyes when a small explosion is heard beneath Albus' bedroom and his sister stats screaming.

Albus is out of the bed and headed downstairs before Gellert can ask what is going on. Intrigued, he follows Albus who has reached the bedroom below. A blonde, female version of Albus is shrieking in her bed, her knees drawn to her chest and her hair in a massive ball of frizz. She's visibly shaking and is mumbling to herself.

Albus sits on her bed carefully, and reaches out a hand to her. Ariana shies away from his touch with another shriek, scuttling up into a ball as far away from Albus as she can be.

"Ariana, it's me. It's Albus." His voice is quiet and gentle. "There's nothing to fear. You're home and you're safe. No one is going to harm you."

"Papa - "

"Papa took care of the boys."

Ariana shakes her head. "Papa's mad at me. He thinks I'm telling lies." Tears streak down her face. "Papa says I shouldn't have gone off alone and I – no! NO! Stop! Please, I'll do anything, just stop! No no nononono. . ."

Albus moves toward her and takes her in his arms despite her struggling, smoothing her hair against her head and speaking to her in a calming manner. It takes a while to calm the girl, but eventually she goes limp against Albus' arms, apparently crying herself to exhaustion. Albus sighs as he lays her against the blankets. He picks up his wand and mutters a spell before meeting Gellert at the door. Albus closes the door and leans against it with a sigh.

Gellert breaks the silence. "What happened to her?"

It is a moment before Albus answers. "When she was younger, Ariana was playing just outside of our garden. She was doing magic – magic that little ones do before they can help it – and she caught the eye of three Muggle boys. They were frightened by what they saw, but I think parts of them were curious. They told her to do it again and when she couldn't, they decided to use their own manners to make it come out of her."

Revulsion spreads across Gellert and he has to keep hold of the wall behind him to keep from falling over in shock. It isn't exactly unexpected; Gellert has seen Muggles use force to make people do magic and has seen them use force to keep a witch or wizard away (Gellert's own mother passes through his thoughts at that). But to use that on a child . . . ? He shakes his head. "It wasn't just beatings was it?"

The look on Albus' face answers his question. "Bastards. How old was she?"

"Six." Albus' voice breaks on the word. "My father went after them. He wanted to make sure they paid for what they did. He succeeded in killing two of them, and sent the other one to a hospital. Mother didn't stay long enough to find out if he would survive or not. They sent him to Azkaban for it. I doubt he's even still alive."

"I am so sorry." It is one of the few times Gellert has actually meant what he says. He might be cold at times, but he isn't completely heartless. Albus moves from Ariana's bedroom door and starts upstairs to his room. Gellert follows, speaking. "It makes sense what you said. About the Statutes causing more harm than good."

"I used to want to make them pay." Albus says. "I wanted all of them dead. That went away as I grew . . . but moments like this make it flare."

"I don't want them dead," Gellert says slowly, carefully. "I think they're stupid and further behind in their evolution of species. But they're rather like a dog. They're fun and can be useful. They have traits that make me want to keep them around. But in the end, we're obviously the masters and they have to be taught and trained what to do. They need our guidance, Albus. I think we could guide them."

"They need us." Albus says, the intensity rising in his voice.

"Yes," Gellert mummers in agreement. 'They do."

II

"I am so glad you and Albus are getting along!" Bathilda says one evening over dinner. She's smiling and Gellert can't help but grin back at her. Though she's scatterbrained and can be annoying at times, Gellert has found he enjoys the woman. If anything, she amuses him. Bathilda is a wonderful cook and enjoys talking about history over dinner. He must admit, she has a mind for picking up things no one else could remember. Gellert picked her brain over many items, one of them being the history of the Elder Wand. She'd given him a few facts he hadn't known. He can't wait to get to Albus' house to tell him.

But first, she wanted to feed him.

"I knew you two would get along. You're both such bright and brilliant boys, and poor Albus has always seemed so lonely"

"He isn't lonely now," Gellert says, finishing his dinner. "In fact, once his brother returns to school, we are planning to start traveling."

Bathilda is in the middle of packing a dinner for the Dumbledore family and she pauses. "Traveling? What about his sister? Poor dear is so frail, I don't think she would be up for much."

Irritation flashes over Gellert. They aren't certain what to do with Ariana. If it were up to him, Gellert would have placed her in their local hospital for safekeeping. No matter which way he looks at it, there is nothing good about an eighteen-year-old man watching over a mentally and physically scarred teenager. He suggested it to Albus, only once, and was shot down with a furious, "No." He could not be persuaded otherwise.

It had the potential to be a large argument and one Gellert was not prepared to deal with. In answer to her question, Gellert simply shrugs. "We will work it out. It isn't something that concerns us."

"I'm sure you will think of something." She hands him a package. "Take this to Albus, please."

Albus grumbles as Gellert hands him the food, but brings two plates to his siblings. Aberforth glowers and Ariana nibbles while staring blankly. Gellert doesn't understand how Albus can be so patient with them. Satisfied the kids were taken care of, Albus leads them to his room and digs into his own plate of food. Gellert joins him on the bed. "I've been thinking about some of our issues we've had and I want to run them by you," Albus says.

Gellert listens with rapt attention, watching as Albus comes alive while talking. He still knew Albus had feelings for him and while he wasn't sure of his own, Gellert could see the possibilities that could come out of such a relationship. Albus never needed to leave him and it would be cruel to deny him of the only thing he really wanted . . .

Albus stopped talking and gave Gellert a quizzical look. "You're not listening to me at all, are you?"

"I am," Gellert says, shoving papers away and he continues to smile at Albus. "You were telling me about the plans you have for the rules of our new society." The other boy is starting to look slightly uncomfortable and clears his throat. "I've been thinking a little, about something that pertains to us."

"I thought everything we've talked about has to do with us."

"We speak of our plans," Gellert says. "But, I mean us. Us as people and us as something else."

Albus looks as though he's been caught doing something he shouldn't. "Us?"

"Yes, us." Gellert gives him a smile. "I am not blind, Albus. I know you have feelings for me."

Albus' face suddenly matches his hair. "I think you're –"

"I'm not crazy."

He looks as though he is going to come up with an excuse, and for the first time since meeting Albus, he seems the boy speechless. Instead, Albus sighs. "You know."

"It wasn't hard to figure out. Really, Albus, you're like an open book."

Albus frowns. "Do you . . . does it bother you?"

Gellert makes a noise of impatience. "Please. Men have liked men since humans existed. I'm used to people finding me attractive. You're hardly the first."

Albus lets out a small snort of laughter and fidgets with his own hands. It's weird seeing him so uncertain of his feelings. Taking the initiative, Gellert leans forward and touches Albus' hands. The other boy doesn't jump or pull away, but he tenses and watches Gellert's moves intensely. Gellert doubts very much this is the first time Albus has felt like this, but is positive this is the first time Albus has had to deal with his feelings.

Gellert wants Albus to stay with him. Albus wants Gellert. Logically, Gellert thinks, they'll give each other what they want.

Albus makes a noise as Gellert presses their lips together. It's been a very long time since Gellert has said or done something for the first time, and he finds this exciting. He takes control of the kiss, threading his fingers through Albus' hair and he presses his lips harder. Albus tries to speak, but Gellert takes the advantage to deepen the kiss, pleased as Albus makes a noise of pleasure as his tongue slides against Gellert's.

He can feel Albus swallow and pull away. "Are you okay with this?"

Albus looks skeptical. "You like women."

"I've never said anything of the sort."

"You didn't have to."

Gellert rolls his eyes. "You assumed. You're getting what you want, Albus. Why are you fighting this?"

"I don't want you to take advantage of that," Albus says, his voice wavering slightly. "I like you. Please don't use that for your own intents."

Ignoring the twinging in his stomach (was that guilt? Gellert refuses to believe it is guilt), he takes Albus' hands and entwines them with his own. He doesn't speak and only crawls closer, placing a small kiss on Albus' lips. Gellert lets go of Albus hands to run them down his arms and to his chest, drawing in small patterns as he goes. Albus' breath catches slightly. Making a decision, Gellert grabs the bottom of Albus' shirt and lifts it above his head, leaning down to press a kiss to the nape of his neck.

Albus let's out a shaky gasp. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Later, he would think they probably moved too fast. Going from just friends to lovers in one night was a jump neither of them were prepared for. It's the first time Gellert allows himself to let go with another human being and he finds he enjoys it. He enjoys the way he can make Albus' skin sing under his touch. He enjoys the way Albus gasps when he touches something just right. He loves the way Albus returns the favors and all Gellert can see are stars.

The biggest impact, however, is later when they are curled together as the dawn breaks. Albus is falling asleep, his auburn hair messy and sweaty, stuck to his forehead and blowing in his eyes. It isn't a flattering way to be. Yet Gellert can only see him as beautiful.


	2. Chapter 2

Albus  
One Hundred

Watching people grieve has never been something Albus particularly cared for. He's had enough drama in his life to be more than happy with settling back and never leaving his home again. Unfortunately, his home happened to be Hogwarts'SchoolofWitchcraftand Wizardry and there would be no settling back or resting for him. Instead, Albus had funerals to attend to, and students to help through the grieving process.

It is almost surreal, attending the funeral of those you taught. It was a downfall of old age, Albus thought, that war can take lives all too briefly. Lily and James Potter had only been twenty-one years old when they were murdered. Most of this life, Albus had hated the phrase 'It seemed like only yesterday' but now he was beginning to understand it. Had it really been ten years since these children stood before him in the Great Hall waiting to be Sorted? It did not seem possible that they were all grown with lives and babies of their own.

Yet now they were gone and their child was in the hands of Muggles. Albus sighed to himself.

"Headmaster!"

Albus stops and turns to see Remus Lupin jogging up to him. He is dressed rather formally and far better than what Albus usually saw the boy in. He smiles at Remus as the boy catches up to him, slightly breathless.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted . . ." Remus hesitates, as if choosing his words carefully. Albus wonders mildly if he still is that much of an intimidating figure. He can't help but admit the thought pleases him. "I wanted to thank you for showing up. You meant the world to Lily and James. You really did."

That low feeling in his stomach is back and Albus nods. "They were wonderful people and will be sorely missed, certainly; most of all by their son."

Remus nods and looks downward. Albus suspects he is hiding tears. Yet, when he looks back up, his light blue eyes are clear. Remus simply smiles. "I'm told Harry is to go live with Lily's sister?"

"That was the choice I made, yes. Harry has no other family to take him in."

"Especially not since Sir-" Remus stops mid-sentence and swallows. "No, sir. You're right. Harry has no one else to take him in."

It hits Albus, then, how similar Remus' life and situation have been to his own. Remus may never have had to raise two teenagers after just reaching adulthood himself, but he certainly experienced the stigma of being something unwanted in his first few years at Hogwarts. Like Albus, he developed close and personal relationships with three outstanding young men. And just like Albus, he fell for one of them.

Both men have had to watch loved ones die at the hands of someone they trusted.

He invites Remus back to Hogwarts for afternoon tea and watches as the man struggles with his decision. Remus finally nods ad takes a deep breath, trying to give his former headmaster a smile that's far too happy for someone who has just lost his best friends. Albus doesn't press it. He knows it is only a defense mechanism.

Remus accepts the cup of tea with shaking hands and sips a little. Visibly, he starts to relax before Albus and the older man takes the advantage. "Remus, I will never be able to say how sorry I am for your losses. I loved Lily and James as well, but I know this is nothing compared to what you are going through."

Remus swallows, staring into his cup. "Lily and James died for their son, like they always said they would. I never . . . I never expected them to have to."

Albus ignores the small stabbing in his stomach. "I did my best to keep them as safe as I could, Remus."

"I'm not blaming you, Professor."

"You do not have to. I blame myself."

The younger man looks up, startled. "Professor Dumbledore, you have no reason to blame yourself. You couldn't stop Voldemort from targeting them."

"I failed to convince them having me as their Secret Keeper would have been the best option." Albus feels like a complete fraud just saying those words. Why on Earth should anyone entrust him with their lives? He's proven time and time again that it only ends badly. "I feel just as responsible as if I had handed the Potters to Voldemort myself."

A sarcastic, bitter snort leaves Remus at that. His fingers are now clenching his teacup so tightly, Albus is afraid the cup will shatter under them. Remus rolls his eyes and looks back down. "No, that was Sirius' job."

Albus knows that tone too well. The tone of wanting to believe everything about someone, to not see the bad that were within them, and still having issues dealing with it after the matter. He reaches out slowly with one hand and pats Remus' fingers. "You should not blame yourself either, Remus."

"I lived with Sirius. I should have noticed something."

"You loved him."

Remus looks up, shocked. "Excuse me?"

"Dear boy, do you think I am blind?" Albus gives a little smile at Remus, who is staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. "You think I am not aware of affections when I see them? I probably knew about you and Sirius before either of you was aware of your feelings for one another." Albus paused. "And though that might sound delightfully creepy, I have dealt with students – and their romances – every year since I was twenty-five. I am rather a master at spotting them by now."

Remus says nothing in reply and Albus wonders for a moment if he's offended the boy. "I trusted him," came the broken response moments later. "I trusted him with everything. Now look at where I am. I have no home, no job, and nowhere to go. He ruined me, Professor. He ruined me."

"Sirius did not ruin you." Albus is firm in his reply. "He has hurt you and he has betrayed you, but he certainly has not ruined you. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, Remus, and you always have been. Believe me that I am going to do everything within my power to make sure you are taken care of."

"Unless you can give me a home and a job - "

"Now you are just feeling sorry for yourself," Albus says, his voice hard. "Feeling sorry for yourself will get you nowhere, Remus Lupin. Each man must make something of himself on his own. Do you think I became Headmaster of Hogwarts by sitting around and letting people do things for me? No. Life has never exactly been kind to me either, Remus. You would do well to remember that."

Remus looks up. "I know."

"I doubt you do."

"No, I know." Remus swallows a little and hesitates again before speaking. "In Muggle Studies our seventh year, we were assigned a paper over recent Muggle attacks, dating back to about the beginning of the twentieth century. Your . . . um . . . well, your father was in there."

"Unsurprising." Albus is slightly amazed, even though he will never let Remus know this. "It was a major scandal when it happened, and one I find that follows me to pop up at times."

"So . . . you have known someone that was in prison?"

"Many, yes."

The office is silent as each man finishes his tea. Albus watches Remus closely, looking for signs of an emotional breakdown. Remus, while obviously heartbroken over the recent events, seems to be carrying himself much better than Albus had expected.

"Do you think it is possible for someone in Azkaban to regret their decisions?" Remus asks, suddenly. "Even under the influence of the Dementors?"

"I would think almost everyone who entered Azkaban would regret the decision that brought them there. That's the Dementor's job."

"That's not what I meant." Remus looks frustrated with himself. "Do you think it's possible someone might have been sent to prison for the wrong thing? That possibly they have the wrong person?"

"Are you suggesting that Sirius Black is innocent?"

Remus hesitates. "I'm suggesting that things don't exactly hold up."

"What has been done is done," Albus says, and he watches Remus visibly deflate in front of him. Lowering his voice to a softer tone, Albus replies, "Remus, if I had any inkling whatsoever that Sirius might be innocent, I would use everything within my power to make sure he was out of prison. As it is, the evidence against him is too wide, and anyone who might be able to tell us differently has either been Obliviated or is dead. It would be well for you not to dwell upon it."

"Yes, Professor," Remus says simply, but Albus knows this isn't the end of it.

Gellert

Twenty Five

The wand shop is dirty and dusty and just the way Gellert remembers it. The floor is littered with wood shavings and Gellert resists the urge to sneeze. Instead, he pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs, stifling the noise. The last thing he needs is to be caught.

It's almost surreal to be here, standing in Gregorovitch's workshop. Things glitter around him, all ingredients the wand maker uses in his projects. They're beautiful and a different kind of magic than Gellert will never know. He wishes he had this ability, but Gellert believes he has enough talent without having this particular one.

It's almost impossible to know where to start, so Gellert starts with his instincts. It is doubtful Gregorovitch would leave the wand in the open, so looking around the bare room would be little more than ridiculous. He steps lightly across the floor, wanting to be as quiet as possible. Many local shops also double as homes for their owners and Gellert cannot afford to risk being caught. Gellert won't let anything come between him and the Elder Wand and he would greatly regret killing the wand maker. Yet, he was jumping ahead of himself; first he needed to find the wand.

Feeling a bit silly, Gellert starts rummaging through drawers, pulling apart books and folders and always carefully placing things back the way they were. He needs Gregorovitch to have no idea he has never been here.

After twenty minutes, Gellert is regretting having not thought this out more thoroughly. After twenty-five, he is completely frustrated. He has searched the entire workshop and thought he has found every place a wand could possibly be hidden. This couldn't have been a lie. The wand has to be here!

Frustrated, Gellert leans against the desk facing the bookcase. He stares at it menacingly, as if daring it to judge him for this supposed failure. Yet, something catches his eye; it is a dictionary in English that sits nestled between wand-making books, all written in German. He knows for a fact Gregorovitch can barely speak enough English to form a complete sentence. Why would he own a book in a language he neither spoke nor cared about?

Feeling butterflies in his stomach, Gellert pulls the book from the shelf. It is much lighter than it should be, proving to Gellert that it was hollow. He breathes a little sigh of relief and a short prayer of thanks to anything that will listen. He shakes the book; it rattles. Grinning, Gellert opens the book.

He has only a brief moment to look at the wand before the book starts shrieking in alarm. Knowing he has only seconds and cursing himself for his stupidity, Gellert grabs the wand and dashes toward the window. The door to the workshop slams open as Gellert reaches the open window. He pauses for half a second and listens as Gregorovtich screams at him to stop. Gripping the Elder Wand firmly in his hand, Gellert stands and grins at the man and steps backward out of the window. The moment before he hits the ground, Gellert Disapparates, landing again in his small flat.

He's still cackling as he hits the wooden floor. Gellert leans over and inspects the wand – certainly this is the real thing and not a fake. It feels heavy in his hands, but so powerful. Gellert flicks it gently and watches with glee as a spell shoots out. Almost dancing, Gellert puts the wand in his belt and collapses on his bed.

This is it. This is the official first step in his plans.

A brief flash of regret passes over him, one that reminds him he wasn't supposed to do this alone. One that reminds him Albus was supposed to be right here by his side.

Gellert buries that feeling quick. Albus is gone from his life and there is no sense of dwelling in the past.

"To victory!" he mutters to himself in the dark, grinning although no one can see him. "To the new world."

Albus  
Seventy - Five

"You need to keep an eye on that Riddle kid."

Aberforth is cleaning off the top of his bar and making light conversation with his only remaining customer. Albus sips his brandy, watching his brother finish his closing duties and not saying a word. The Hogs Head, Hogsmede's newest bar, hasn't been in business terribly long. In the short time, it has become a popular hang out for locals who didn't feel comfortable doing their business in the Three Broomsticks. Aberforth doesn't seem to mind that his bar doesn't have the best reputation – if anything, he seems to thrive off of it.

Albus is proud of his younger brother. Aberforth has never quite had anything to do with his life. Although owning a shady bar filled with goats is not quite something Albus would have picked, he's glad Aberforth is happy. It has been a long time since Albus has seen his brother smile.

Back on the topic at hand, Albus raises an eyebrow and finally answers. "Eye on the Riddle boy?"

"He's up to something," Aberforth grunts, throwing the dirty rag in the sink. "He's been hanging around here while he's off work. I don't buy the goodie-two-shoes scenario he likes to play off with people. He and that group he hangs out with are up to something, and they're going to end up being dangerous."

Albus downs the rest of his brandy, feeling the liquid go smoothly down his throat. He sets his empty glass on the counter and watches as Aberforth throws it toward the sink. "He's worried me since I brought him to the school. I have tried keeping track of him, but he has proved to be an elusive person when he wants to be."

"Your watch needs to be closer."

Albus pins him with a look. "I just told you, I am doing my best."

The two brothers stare at one another, each with their eyes narrowed. Finally, Aberforth lifts a shoulder in what Albus assumes is his brother's version of a careless shrug. Instead, this one is stiff and full of tension. "He reminds me of someone. He's too charming. Too willing to do whatever it takes to make sure he goes somewhere. Riddle looks at people as though they are meat. I thought that might sound familiar to you."

Albus tenses as well, knowing where Aberforth is headed. "He has not bewitched me, if that is what you are insinuating."

"It wouldn't be the first time it's happened."

A wave of fury and frustration washes over Albus in a hurry and he has to close his eyes to keep his temper in check. When he opens them, Aberforth is staring at him with a knowing look. He knows he has hit a nerve. Not for the first time, Albus silently wishes he could punch his brother.

"Are you ever going to forgive me, Aberforth?"

"I don't know. I don't know you deserve forgiveness."

"I made a mistake. I am only human."

"Hell of a mistake to make," Aberforth snaps. "A mistake that cost me my sister."

Albus is rather proud he manages not to flinch. "She was my sister too."

Aberforth says nothing, but snorts in answer. Albus looks at the bar, speaking softly. "If I could go back in time, I would. I cannot change the past, Aberforth, and nothing I can say or do will ever bring Ariana back. We both know that. But I like to think that my actions after have shown remorse."

"Right."

"I would have thought putting him in prison for the rest of his life would have shown you where my loyalties lie."

Aberforth whips around at that, glaring at Albus with such an intense fury that for a moment, Albus is scared. "What I saw was a man who was bullied into actually having to act. I saw a man who only acted because the Minister of Magic asked him, and oh, he knew he was going to get handsomely rewarded. Wasn't that why they gave you your Order of Merlin? Yeah, I'm certain you were just dying to put Gellert Grindelwald away. It's amazing you didn't start snogging him during the duel."

"That's enough." Albus stands. "I am not going to stand here and listen to this. I know why I did that. If you are still too blinded by fury and anger, then that alone is your problem. I have done nothing but attempt to make amends with you, Aberforth. I have helped you, I have coddled you, and I have listened to you do nothing but demean my character. I am done, Aberforth. Think of me what you will. From this moment forward, I really could not care less."

He turns on his heel to walk out of the bar. Aberforth grumbles something behind him, but Albus is too mad to understand what he's said. In his heart of hearts, he knows why Aberforth is so bitter, and he knows he deserves every bit of that bitterness. He's through being walked on for it.

Still, as he makes his way back to Hogwarts, all he can hear is Aberforth's voice calling him a coward."

Gellert

Sixty-Two

It is a cold evening, with uncharacteristic bitter cod winds blowing through the streets of Baiersdorf and Gellert cannot help but shiver as it bites through his thick layer of clothing. It is late at night, far later than Gellert wanted to be out and about. The weekly meetings with his advisors had run a longer than normal. It was worth it; the ideas the advisors had presented were wonderful. If anything, Gellert is proud of how his progress is coming. He has all butBritainand theUnited Statesin the palm of his hand. First, he needed to reachBritain; once they fell, the States would follow soon after.

Getting past Britainwas going to prove to be difficult, it seemed. Gellert had sent letters of inquiry to their minister of magic, but wasn't surprised at all when they ignored his owls. He knows why they were hesitant; the influence of Albus Dumbledore still held power. It is unsurprising – Dumbledore's name is whispered even here. Rumors held that Gellert was afraid of him, but Gellert knows the truth. Albus is afraid of him, and it is only a matter of time before Gellert uses his particular brand of knowledge against the other man. Still, he is not prepared to meet his old partner face to face. Not yet.

His domination hasn't been terribly difficult. People are willing to listen to him and some are excited for the changes that were taking place. He's pleased with the way things have gone – even the few Muggles that are aware of his plans back him. It was just his luck the Muggles decided to go to war near the time of his take over. The Muggle Hitler has proven to be useful, but his time as being something Gellert can use is drawing to a close. Hitler has begun asking too many questions and his newest form of eliminating those he deems inferior is nothing short of disgusting and wasteful.

There are those that call Gellert a Dark Wizard, but it is a term he's never understood. Dark Wizards only care about themselves and only care about power. They slaughter without purpose to display their manhood and proof that they are the greatest living wizard. Gellert has to need to be assured he is the greatest wizard alive – he knows this to be a fact. He never kills unless he has to and the deaths involved in his takeover are done to better both words.

The opposition says nothing of the flocks of people who have bowed at his feet, claiming he is a god. They say nothing to the wizards and witches who have told him he is doing the right thing. They say nothing of the good he has done. No, all they see is Gellert Grindelwald: Dark Wizard.

It annoys him. Everything he does is for the greater good. Albus' words first, but they are words Gellert is willing to die for.

Gellert reaches his home and as he grabs for his keys, he stops to look. There is a bird perched on his doorstep, glowing a brilliant red against the darkness. The bird lets out a beautiful sound, one that sends chills straight down to his bones. Though he has never seen one in person, Gellert knows this is aPhoenix. It is a mystery to him why there is aPhoenixupon his doorstep, but Gellert attempts not to let it bother him. Instead, he unlocks his door and enters quietly.

The moment he enters, he knows there is someone in his home. Gellert slips his wand from his robes and mutters a quiet, "Lumos". Blue light fills the room and Gellet's eyes dart around, doing his best to find a shadow in the darkness. "I know you are here. Show yourself."

There is no answer and Gellert's eyes narrow. He lets out a frustrated grunt and demands, "Show yourself!" again. This time, there is movement from behind one of his large vases.

"I suppose it was foolish of me to think I cold hide from you." A clear English accented voice spoke in the darkness. Gellert freezes, recognizing the voice immediately. He swallows and grasps a tighter grip on his wand, raising it in an attempt to find the hidden man. Slowly, Albus moves from the shadows.

Albus hasn't changed much since he was eighteen. He is still tall and thin and his hair has not yet faded from its bright auburn. It has grown longer, past his elbows now and is almost long enough to tuck into his belt. On top of these things, Albus has grown a rather small beard. It is an interesting look, but one that is different from the Albus of his memory. Albus also has his wand raised at Gellert, and unlike age eighteen, there is no smile upon his face or any sense of fondness for his former lover.

Gellert clears his throat and attempts to look unconcerned. "Good evening, Albus," he says in English, his voice light and welcoming. "It is good to see you. I admit, you gave me quite a shock. Certainly you realize you could have knocked rather than breaking into my home?"

"I thought the shock might catch you off guard."

"So you endangered your life? I might have killed you."

"You would not have been able to." Albus' voice was just as light as Gellert's and he spoke as though they were having a chat over tea, and not three feet apart with wands pointing over the other's heart.

"I'll trust you. How did you get in?"

"When you left earlier; I disillusioned myself and slipped inside before you closed the door. I removed your lights as well." There is a small click and the lights in his home suddenly reappear. Gellert blinks, impressed.

"Impressive," he comments. "I didn't even sense you." He pauses, considering the other odd event of the night. "The phoenix on my doorstep, do you know it?"

Albus nods. "He belongs to me. I call him Fawkes."

Gellert shakes his head in amazement. "Only you would be able to domesticate a bird that can't be tamed. Would you mind if we lower our wands? My arm is rather tired and I will not attack you unless you attack me first. We were friends once, Albus. Certainly we should honor that?"

They stare at one another for a moment longer and Albus' wand lowers. Gellert follows him. "Since you're here, shall I make tea? It can't have been an easy journey from . . .London, I assume?"

"Scotland," Albus corrects. "Just outside of Hogsmede. Tea sounds wonderful, thank you."

With a flick of his wand, Gellert sets the teapot to boil. He offers Albus a variety of teas and is not surprised when the other man chooses the sweetest out of the bunch. Albus takes a seat as Gellert presents him with a teacup and he mutters thanks. After taking a sip, Gellert pins Albus with a look.

"I doubt you traveled fromScotlandto have tea with me. What are you up to, Albus? What are you trying to accomplish?"

Albus looks over his teacup. He doesn't speak, as though he is attempting to choose his words carefully and correctly. "We both know why I am here, Gellert," he says, finally. "You can not keep up with this."

"This?"

"Your plans."

"You are speaking of the plans we developed together?" Gellert prods, watching Albus' face for any signs of weakness. "Aren't you proud, Dumbledore? They've turned out quite nicely in my opinion and it won't be much longer before the revolution ends and the real work begins. I'm rather excited for it, I admit."

"I cannot be proud," Albus says as he sets his cut on a table near his chair. "You have twisted their meanings and made them what you wanted them to be. You are murdering, Gellert. You know I can not tolerate that."

"I'm making the world a better place. Sacrifices have to be made."

"You are using a fancy word to cover up needless murder," Albus argues. "We had this argument as boys and we are having it again today. There is never any excuse for murder, Gellert. Never. I have always stood by that."

"I see you are still traumatized by your father."

"I would hate to see another family destroyed like mine was."

"A fact you blame on me, I assume?"

Albus completely stills and stares at him with cold eyes. "This has nothing to do with our conversation."

"It has everything to do with our conversation," Gellert says, and he leans forward. "You forget, Albus, there was a time in your life you were just as passionate about my plans as I. You wanted to be a part of them – do you forget how we planned to rule together? You can hide behind your lies that I have twisted their meanings, but I haven't. 'For the Greater Good' – those were your words first."

Gellert is rather impressed that Albus manages not to flinch. "Words that I deeply regret."

"Words you believed nonetheless." Gellert rests against his seat again. "So, instead of waiting for me to come toBritain, you decided to come hunt me down instead. Brave of you, Albus. You believe you can stop me?"

Albus nods. "I believe I can."

Gellert cocks his head to the side. "If you had to kill me, would you?"

There is a significant pause after Gellert's question and Albus stares at him intently. "If I must. I would."

A bark of laughter escapes Gellert before he can stop himself. "God Albus, you are just so noble! I bet you're popular in your line of work. What is your line of work?"

"I'm a school teacher." The tone is almost defensive.

"A school teacher? Mein Gott, Albus. Oh, I bet they think you're just wonderful there, don't they? You have the entire damn country wrapped around your little finger. How would they feel if they knew you once curled against Dark Wizard Grindelwald and begged him to bugger you?"

"Gellert - "

Gellert stands before Albus can finish his sentence and walks toward the other man. He bends as he reaches him and takes Albus' face in his hands. Before he can jerk away, Gellert presses his lips against Albus'. He hears the growl of protest, but presses forward, licking his tongue against the other pair of lips. There's a resistance before acceptance and Gellert can't help but feel a twinge of victory as Albus' mouth opens beneath his. It's old movements they're doing, ones they practiced many years ago, yet still so comfortable. He allows himself this pleasure.

Gellert breaks away for a breath, but as he moves back in, Albus suddenly freezes. The mouth beneath his turns to stone. Gellert pulls away. "Albus, don't fight me. You know you want this."

"Whether I want it or not isn't the point," Albus says, and Gellert is pleased to hear the other man is as breathless as he is. "I know what you are trying to do and it isn't going to work."

"I'm not trying to do anything."

"You're trying to manipulate me."

"So suspicious."

"You taught me well."

That stings. "This isn't good enough for you? It's been years since we were together. Do you remember how we used to burn? There were times I could have sworn your skin was on fire. I've always associated you with flame."

"I distinctly remember you telling me that, once."

"It hasn't changed."

Albus' passive face doesn't change, but he pulls away from Gellert and gives him a cold stare. "What happened between us is over, Gellert. You aren't going to convince me to come to your side and I am not going to convince you to back down. Why waste time? This has to end."

It's sad what they've come to, Gellert thinks. He takes a step back. "There's no chance at all?"

"None."

He sighs. "Certainly you don't believe I'm just going to come quietly."

Albus shakes his head. "Not at all. I rather thought I would have to fight you."

"I will be there."

"Fantastic." Gellert has the nerve to give him a brilliant smile. "I look forward to defeating you." He laughs as Albus gives him a disgusted look and Disapparates without a word.

Albus

Sixty-Four

It is too quiet in the aftermath of the duel. The crowd that had gathered to witness slowly began to disperse and Albus is left to himself. He stands there panting, broken, and bruised and completely in awe of what just happened. He never really considered the option he would defeat Gellert and the reality still has yet to hit him. Authorities dragged Gellert's unconscious form to a safe place only moments ago. Albus was hesitant to let them take him, but they promised they were only going to stick him in a holding cell. He would be allowed to see Gellert once he wakes.

Healers invade Albus before he can get away from them. He complains and wiggles enough that soon, only one stubborn Healer is left. She slowly begins to clean and magic away to scuffs and bruises. He lets her, too tired to really argue. It is only when she gently touches his nose, broken once again, that he stops her.

"Don't."

She gives him a confused look. "Mister Dumbledore," she says, her voice heavily accented. "It won't take but a moment to heal. It will be painless."

"It isn't pain I'm worried with." Albus argues and he doesn't remove his hand. "Not my nose, please." He knows he must sound ridiculous. The breaks, both of them, are reminders of his foolishness and hard mementos Albus would rather keep. Slowly, she removes her hand and shrugs.

"As you wish, sir."

He breathes a sigh of relief and gives her a small smile. It is then that he really looks at the girl, and notices the fear in her eyes. The crest upon her uniform – the sign of the Hallows – informs Albus she was part of Gellert's revolution. She's scared, Albus knows, and he can't blame her. With this one duel, her entire future has changed. She is no longer a member of a winning side – she's jobless, leaderless, and possibly futureless. Nothing is certain anymore.

Albus touches her arm and she jumps, looking at him with wide eyes. He gives her a small smile. "You won't be destitute. You'll be taken care of."

The Healer snorts. "No clinic will hire me now. I will be lucky if they do not condemn me to death."

"You didn't know." Albus says, soothingly. "You didn't know what was really going on. People will see that."

She's furious, suddenly. "You believe I am stupid? I know what was really going on, Dumbledore, far more than you ever will. Grindelwald provided us hope – hope that one day we might not have to hide from the Muggles. Hope that maybe they wouldn't kill us when they discover who we are. Hope that one day Muggles and Wizards could live together. We have so much to learn from one another. Medicine alone would benefit greatly on both sides."

The Healer swells with passion as she talks, and Albus can't help but be impressed. He stands and reaches over to her. "What is your name?"

She hesitates. "Pomfrey."

Albus cocks his head to the side. "Pomfrey. That doesn't sound Germanic."

"It isn't. It was my husband's name – he was killed in the Muggle war." Pomfrey stops and looks down. "Do you mean what you say? That I will be taken care of?"

Albus reaches over and takes her hands in his. "Mrs Pomfrey, I promise I will do everything in my power to make certain you and yours are well cared for."

She gives him a smile, but is soon called away.

A hand touches Albus' shoulder and he whips around. The guard raises his hands in a sign of surrender and gives a tentative smile. "I apologize, sir. I just wanted to inform you the prisoner is ready for a visit. If you still wish to see him, that is."

Albus instinctively tenses, but takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Of course. If you would be so kind as to lead me?"

It is a short walk to the holding cell where Gellert is kept. The guard allows Albus fifteen minutes to say his piece and exit from the room. Albus doesn't care for this, if he's honest. Fifteen minutes to far too short of a time to tell Gellert everything that needs to be said. Instead of arguing, he simply agrees and takes a deep breath. The cell opens with a creak and Albus is given his first glimpse of Gellert.

His breath catches in his throat. Hours before, Gellert had been tall, proud and beautiful. The man before him, with his arms tied to the post behind him, hangs his head in shame. His entire body is slumped in defeat and Albus can't help the feeling of guilt that washes over him. He slowly enters the room, watching Gellert with every step he takes. The other man doesn't even move his head.

As he reaches Gellert, he bends down to see eye level with him. Gellert is awake and his blue eyes are staring holes into the ground. Behind his back, Albus can see Gellert's hands, which are clenched so tightly into fists that they're leaving red fingernail prints.

"Gellert."

"Go away." Gellert's voice grounds out.

"I am not going anywhere until I have the chance to speak with you."

Gellert's head snaps up and Albus finds eyes boring into his own. "I said go away. Now. Before I rip off these bindings and strangle you with my bare hands."

Albus can't help the chuckle that boils up from his gut. It's a sarcastic laugh. "I don't think you would want to do that. One defeat is enough for today, don't you think?" Gellert lets out a half scream at his words and lunges toward him, moving only inches before the bindings stop him. He looks up at Albus, fury raging on his face.

"I hate you."

"You don't hate me, Gellert."

"I do. I hate you with everything in me." Gellert is shaking now. "You took everything from me, Albus. Everything. Do you have any idea what you've even done?"

Albus nods and reaches out a hand to touch Gellert's cheek. The other man jerks his head away, but Albus never moves his hand. "What I did, Gellert, was save your life. You may not see it now. You man not ever see it. If you had continued down the path you were going, it would have eventually killed you."

"You've killed me anyway." Gellert snaps.

He shakes his head. "No."

There's nothing more to say to him now, Albus realizes, and he doubts Gellert will ever understand what has been done here. He stands and leaves, ignoring the manic laughter that follows him as he exits. The guard seems surprised.

He later learns that Gellert has been given multiple life sentences, all to be served within the walls of the prison he built. It's a fitting end, Albus thinks, even if he believes deep down he too should be joining Gellert.


	3. Chapter 3

Gellert

Ninty Eight

After fifty years alone in his cell, Gellert finds himself hardly surprised at anything. His life consists of sitting in a prison cell with the occasional meal. There are only two guards left in Nurmenguard, both too young to really hate him for his crimes. They don't understand why their grandparents find him intimidating and frightening - they find him a curious creature. After all, there's nothing intimidating and frightening about an old man locked in his cell.

He has no visitors. Gellert isn't even certain he's allowed visitors.

With this mindset, Gellert is more than slightly surprised when his guard actually speaks to him that morning. He fumbles with the door to the bars of the cell, glaring with what Gellert assumes is supposed to be an intimidating look. "You have a visitor, Mr. Grindelwald." His voice is filled with distaste and it is evident the guard does not approve of his visitor. Gellert sits up a bit, wishing for the first time in years that he had a wand. Incarcerated though he may be, he always wishes to look his best for guests.

The door opens and Gellert tilts his head to peek around the guard. A quiet voice answers, "There is no need to stand guard. I doubt he is much of a threat; especially to me." The words are spoken in German, but the voice is foreign. The guard scowls, but stands aside.

"You have one hour. Should you need something, please feel free to call for assistance."

The guest sounds amused. "Certainly."

The guard steps away and Gellert receives his first look. His heart stops. Though it has been almost fifty years since their last meeting, Gellert would recognize the tall, thin frame of Albus anywhere. The older man doesn't move at first, his blue eyes moving up and down over Gellert. Albus has changed, even from 1945. He holds himself differently - no longer the awkward eighteen-year-old boy he had first met, nor the conflicted schoolteacher who defeated him. Albus carries himself with the grace of someone who is confident with who he is and his abilities.

Gellert knows that grace and confidence. He carried it once.

Albus says nothing as he enters Gellert's cell, but gives him a wide smile. Finally, he speaks. "You look better than I expected."

Gellert resists the urge to strangle the man before him. He doesn't move from his chair by the window, but simply gestures toward Albus. "Forgive me for not standing. It is cold and my body is not what it used to be."

"No matter." Albus strides across the room and takes Gellert's hand, giving it a firm shake. He smiles brightly (dear God, is the man twinkling?) and steps back. "It is good to see you, Gellert. It has been far too long since we last corresponded. I have missed your letters."

Gellert can't restrain the snort of contempt. "Really, Albus, you used to be a much more convincing liar."

Albus blinks at him and he has the nerve to look offended and hurt. "I am not lying, Gellert. I have always enjoyed corresponding with you. We have our differences, but-"

He doesn't want to hear the end of that sentence and he raises his hand to stop him. "Stop. You don't want to say it and I don't want to hear it. Save your breath on useless drabble and tell me why you're here."

Albus doesn't reply immediately, but he pulls a bag from beneath his robes. As he unlatches the clasps, he begins to speak. "I have something to show you. Something I have no doubt you'll be highly interested in."

Gellert simply raises an eyebrow and stares at the bag. He refuses to move from his chair. He watches with vague interest as Albus pulls a robe from the bag and gives Gellert a bright smile. He holds it gently in his hands before unfolding it. Gellert is completely unimpressed.

"You traveled hundreds of miles to show me robes?"

"A cloak, actually."

"This still makes no sense."

Albus frowns, his face losing a bit of enthusiasm. It's amusing, really, for a man of his age to look so much like a child. "I thought you of all people would be impressed, Gellert. Perhaps you're beginning to feel the effects of old age?"

"You're older than I, Albus. I am not in the mood for your games. Tell me."

A flash of disappointment crosses Albus' face, but he makes no comment. Instead, he holds out the cloak for Gellert to take. Gellert grasps it and brings it closer to him, examining it as Albus continues to speak. "It is a very old cloak and well made, I believe you'll find. Put it on."

It is a sturdy build and gorgeous, Gellert has to admit. It's delicate, but strong in his fingers. Gellert drapes it over his arm and watches as said arm disappears. He blinks.

It's a cloak.

It has made his arm disappear.

Everything suddenly clicks.

"Mein Gott!" he exclaims and Albus chuckles. Gellert looks up at him with eyes he knows have to be crazy. "Is this? . . . This can't be. Albus, this can't be what I think it is!"

"I almost did not believe it myself," Albus says quietly, watching Gellert take in the situation. "Judging by your reaction, you have come to the same conclusion as I."

"Where did you get this?"

"An old student of mine." Albus brushes off a spot on the bed and takes a seat, his purple robes billowing around his legs. "He mentioned it to me a few weeks ago that he owned a cloak of invisibility. It certainly explained many of the wrong doings of his years at Hogwarts and naturally I was curious. I did not think much of it until he mentioned he had inherited the possession from his father, who had received it from his father. I know cloaks are similar, but I have never seen one that had not diminished with time. I knew almost immediately what I was looking at. Still, I wanted another expert opinion."

Gellert can't take his eyes from it. The Cloak had always been his last priority; the one he thought would be the least useful. In his days with Albus, they had thought it useful to hide Ariana, should she inevitably come with them. In his days alone, it had been something he thought would hide himself. It was cruel, really, to have a Hallow firmly within his grasp and no way to use it.

"What do you plan to do with it?"

"I plan to return it to its rightful owner," Albus says, lifting a shoulder in a casual shrug.

"You can't be serious, Dumbledore!" Gellert exclaims before he can stop himself. He tightens his grip on the Cloak and shakes it. "Do you even realize what you have, Albus? Two Hallows! Two! I'm not an idiot and I still remember my old plans. I had leads on the ring. You could have them. We could have them."

"No, Gellert." Albus voice is firm.

"Two, Albus! Two -"

"Insanely dangerous objects," Albus finishes for him, fixing a now steady gaze upon him. Gellert shrinks back slightly. He had forgotten the intensity of those blue eyes. "They are dangerous objects. I am an old man now and so are you. What good cold come of owning them now?"

A million things ran through Gellert's mind - his dreams of glory and power. A different world that could have been perfect, if only Albus hadn't let them die. He had been seconds, seconds from attaining his goal. And he stands here now, two Hallows in his cell and Albus looking a little more frail in his old age than he had fifty years ago . . .

Gellert drops the Cloak and notices his hands are shaking. He looks up to see Albus standing, his wand out and pointing at Gellert's chest. He takes a deep breath and backs away from them both, watching as Albus bends to pick up the Cloak. He never once lowers his wand or takes his eyes away from Gellert's face.

"When did we get old, Albus?"

Albus focuses on safely tucking the Cloak back into his bag before answering. "A question I often wonder myself, old friend." He still has his wand to Gellert, but his grip isn't as firm. Albus studies Gellert for a moment, and odd look crossing his face. Sighing, he lowers his wand and gives Gellert a small smile.

Gellert knows that look and he doesn't give him the chance to speak. He saw it far too often as a teenager. "You plan to return the Cloak to its owner? Does the boy even know what he holds?"

"No. He, like most of the population, simply believes the Three Brothers to be nothing more than a fairy tale. I will not enlighten him. He has enough of a burden on his shoulders."

Gellert just nods in reply. He wants to ask Albus questions; how is he? How is the war with Britain's Dark Lord coming? But the words won't come out of his mouth and Albus doesn't look like he is in the mood to discuss them. Albus has come here for one reason and that was to show him the Cloak. Neither wants to discuss the past. At least, Gellert knows he certainly doesn't.

They still disagree on too much. Gellert isn't ever sure if he'll get over what he still deems as a betrayal.

Albus turns as he exits the cell and gives one almost sad smile toward Gellert. "I fear, old friend, that this may be the last time we see each other."

Frowning, Gellert nods. "It well may be."

The stand only feet apart and Albus opens his mouth to speak, but closes it instead. He gives Gellert one last sad smile. "Goodbye, Gellert."

Gellert doesn't even find it within him to reply.

Albus

Eighteen Years

Elphias comes in the aftermath of his sister's death. He's a constant in Albus' life, he is familiar, and he is welcome. After the chaos of the past few months, Albus is glad he still has one person he knows he can turn to and trust. It is an awkward few days after Ariana's funeral and Aberforth does everything he can to avoid the two older boys, choosing to spend his last two days in Godric's Hallow locked in his room. He has already informed Albus he will be spending the Christmas and Easter holidays at Hogwarts and has no intention of returning home after school ends.

Albus doesn't blame him. He has done a major injustice toward Aberforth and that's a rift that could possibly never mend. He sees his brother off at Kings Cross and returns to an empty home. There is a note from Elphias, letting him know he ran out for a few hours and Albus is surprised to find this doesn't bother him too much. He is grateful for the few brief moments of silence - especially after the last few days. Ms. Bagshot has been over, Albus notices, and she's left him a little basket of bread. He doesn't want to think about Ms. Bagshot and he certainly doesn't want to think about her great-nephew.

He passes Ariana's bedroom on the way upstairs. He should begin to clean it out, but that is a project for another day. Right now, Albus can do and think of little more than returning to his bedroom and locking himself away from the word for a few hours. As soon as he hits the top step, he hears the door open and the familiar voice of Elphias call out for him.

"Albus? Are you home?"

Resisting the urge to sigh, Albus pads back downstairs and poke his head around the wall to let Elphias know he is indeed in the house. "You're home much earlier than I expected."

"I attempted to go by the market, but what I wanted was gone," Elphias says, removing his shoes and placing them by the doorstep. It's a small gesture, and one Albus doesn't miss. The younger boy looks up at him with a bright, hopeful smile. "Is Aberforth on his way to Hogwarts?"

"He is," Albus says, walking down the last few steps to the kitchen where he leans against the sink. "He wished to inform me he has no intention of returning to the house again. I do not blame him, although I do wonder what we will do with the goats."

Elphias makes a noise as though he isn't sure if he should laugh or not. Instead, he chooses to rest against the wall opposite Albus. He hates the look Elphias is giving him, that one that says pity. Albus doesn't want his pity; he doesn't deserve his pity. He deserves every bit of silence Aberforth gives him. He deserves the large lump that now appears in his once straight nose. He deserves that and so much more.

"He'll come around eventually," Elphias says, lifting one of his shoulders in a light shrug. "He's young and he isn't as strong as you are. He's mad right now, but eventually he'll come to see that none of this was your fault."

Albus says nothing and hates himself a little more.

He can tell Elphias wants to say something, with the way a concerned look passes over his face and the way he keeps opening and closing his mouth. Albus stares at him for a few moments before turning his back to Elphias and focusing on the scattered dishes in the sink. Elphias clears his throat as Albus turns on the water and he hears the boy nervously shift from side to side. In the few days he has been here, neither one of them have actually talked. Albus keeps waiting for the inevitable questions, but he hopes he can hold them off.

It seems like he won't be able to do it much longer.

Elphias clears his throat again. "Do . . . Do you want to talk about it, Albus?"

"No." It isn't a lie. The entire ordeal is something Albus would much rather simply forget.

"Albus. You can't just bottle this up forever. You have to talk with someone about it eventually. Otherwise . . ." Elphias seems to know he's treading on thin ground. It would be impossible not to, with the way Albus is now washing the dishes - it is only a miracle he hasn't broken the plate with the way he is gripping it. Nevertheless, Elphias pushes forward. "Otherwise, it's just going to get worse and eat you alive."

Albus pretends he hasn't heard a word Elphias says and continues scrubbing the dishes, focused completely on getting this one plate clean. If only this damn spot would just lift.

He hears Elphias sigh behind him. "You've changed, Albus."

This provokes a reaction, but Albus still doesn't turn around. "Changed? I haven't changed."

"Yes, you have," his friend states, obviously choosing to stand his ground no matter what the cost may be. Later, Albus will honestly admire the courage and nerve it took to stand up to him in this moment. Elphias draws a deep breath and barrels forward. "You've always been quiet, but you're even more so than normal. You're not talking at all. You avoid me at all possibilities and I don't think I've ever seen you row with someone like you did with Aberforth at Ariana's funeral. You lock yourself in that bedroom and hide from the world."

Albus has stilled completely. He knows every word of what Elphias is saying is true, yet he doesn't want to admit it. He swallows. "I'm fine, Elphias. It's just been a hard few . . . Months."

"I know it has," Elphias says and his voice softens. "Anyone would be falling apart over what has happened to you. You've lost both your mother and sister within three months of one another. You're strong, Albus, but you're not invincible."

His hands are shaking, Albus notices. He takes a few deep breaths and turns to face his best friend. His face is calm as he addresses Elphias, and he speaks in a tone that he hopes will make Elphias drop it.

"You don't know what I am going through," he grits out, doing his best to keep his voice even. Albus presses his hands to the counter behind his back and wills them to quit shaking. This is ridiculous. He is Albus Dumbledore, the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen outside of the Founders themselves. He is the winner of dozens of prizes and has never had an issue speaking before. Why is it so hard to address Elphias - Elphias, who has known him since he was eleven? Elphias, who has watched him go through every awkward moment in his life? But this is different. This is different because Elphias is right, and Albus doesn't want to hear it. He struggles to maintain his cool. "You don't know what I've been through. You come here to help me, but instead you harass me to tell you things you can't even imagine. I don't want to hear your words of pity, or for you to tell me I did everything I could. I don't want you to help me, and I don't want you to keep asking me questions!"

He doesn't wait for Elphias to answer before he stalks back upstairs, slamming his bedroom door shut with all of his might. He leans against the door, breathing heavily. As he opens his yes, a piece of paper on his desk catches his eye. Albus doesn't have to pick up the paper to know they're plans he and Gellert had made. Plans for Muggle domination and the society both were so involved in creating.

Suddenly, Albus is furious. He rips the paper from the desk and tears it into shreds. Soon, he is grabbing anything and everything that might remind him of Gellert. Books, pictures, and papers - so many papers. Papers and essays he had drawn up, hoping to impress Gellert with his logic. The hardest were the letters. Letters that promised him everything. He grabs a handful of them and rips them to shreds, throwing them in the general direction of the trashcan. He's angry, so horribly, horribly angry.

The last thing he finds is the book Gellert gave him for his birthday - an original copy, written in runes, of the Tales of Beedle the Bard. Albus wraps his hands around the cover and intends to rip it in half . . . But he can't. He drops the book and it falls to the floor with a loud thud. The noise is his undoing and Albus falls to the floor and curls in a ball, burying his head in his knees. And for the first time since Ariana's death, Albus allows himself to cry.

Gellert

One Hundred Thirteen

Dearest Albus,

Twenty years since I last spoke with you, Albus. Twenty years and only now do you decided to tell me what is going on. I have been keeping up with your country and the mess it is in. You could keep them safe from Dark Wizard Gellert Grindelwald, but not from his haphazard knock-off. It's disgusting really. Only weeks ago, I read of a wizard who compared the brat to me. Here, I believed I could no longer be offended by such things.

I shall address your letter in order.

Congratulations on finding the ring. I realize I shouldn't hate you for that, but a small part of me can't help it. I hope you learned your lesson about sticking your hands where they don't belong.

Sometimes humor is the only thing I have left. Forgive me.

I have indeed heard of Harry Potter. Your local paper seems to jump between praising the boy and believing he is disturbed. Perhaps it is a little of both? Those that jump between seem to be the best stock, as far as I am concerned. You speak of this boy fondly and I was right to assume he is one of your pet pupils. This, Albus, is why you do not become attached. When a boy is simply an ends to a means, you can not become attached. It's a lesson you've learned the hard way.

So, you've raised the boy to die? There are no chances for them then? It is a pity. There does a indeed need to be a little more happiness in this world. Let me give you a short insight into my mind, Albus. There is no easy way to do this. Yes, I killed. Yes, I sent people to their deaths. You think me heartless, but it was quite the opposite. The difference between me and the Riddle boy was that I had a purpose. Every death, ever city I conquered, I had a goal. I believed and always will believe that I was doing the right thing. While that thought helped, it never made the killing easier.

No, Albus, sending people to their deaths is never easy and it never will be. Especially the innocents.

This is truly a disgusting world.

Voldemort's searching for the Elder Wand, is he? Bring him up there! I would love to meet the little upstart that thinks he can take my place! He won't go well with It. It never does seem to like those that abuse It's power and we know that for a fact. Though it pains me to say, I believe it would be better to break the wand's power than to let It fall into the hands of someone like Voldemort and his ilk.

Look, Albus, I have matured.

I also can not keep on topic.

For a man as brilliant as yourself, you are still the most short-sighted person I have ever met. Don't you realize why you won, Albus? I couldn't kill you anymore than you could have killed me. I wasn't using you, you stubborn fool. I thought I was. You thought I was. But at the end of the day, I loved you. You have been everything to me; my friend, my lover, my enemy and my defeater. You have been the very best and the very worst of this tragic life I've lived.

Maybe we'll meet on the other side, should God see fit to give me one.

Albus

Ten Years

Albus is ten when Aberforth crawls into his bed and shakes him awake. It takes him a moment to completely regain consciousness, but when he does, he finds himself staring into the terrified eyes of his younger brother. He sits up quickly and runs a hand through his hair. Aberforth backs off slightly and takes a deep breath.

"Papa's been gone since last night, Albus," he says, his voice shaking a little. "Mama's worried and no one around town has seen him. Do you think everything is okay?"

A brief moment of annoyance passes over Albus and he wonders why his brother had woken him in such a panic. Yet, the look of worry on Aberforth's face causes him pause and reassess the situation. It was unusual for his father to be out late; Percival Dumbledore was rarely out past dark, lest he worry his wife. This fact alone causes Albus to share a little of Aberforth's panic.

It has been two days since Papa brought little Ariana home wrapped in a bundle of sheets. Two days since Albus lost sight of her in the garden. He knows Mama and Papa must be furious with him - it was his responsibility to make sure she didn't wander off. They haven't said a word to Albus since the attack and the boy knows they won't actively seek a punishment. The sight of his small sister wrapped in blankets, shaking and covered in blood is punishment enough for Albus. It's a sight that will never leave the back of his mind. Never. Not even if he lives to be one hundred and twenty.

Aberforth shifts in his bed and gives him a look that is asking for comfort. Albus takes a deep breath and does his best to explain the situation. It would help if he was sure what the situation was. "Papa probably went to speak with the Muggle's parents. We don't know exactly where they live. They could have even been travelers through the village. He'll come home soon and everything will be okay. There isn't a need to panic."

His brother is on the verge of believing him when there is a loud noise from downstairs. Both boys jump and scurry out of the bed, eager to listen to what's happening. They stare at one another in excitement as Papa's voice floats through the door. Albus opens the door slightly and hears Mama's voice from downstairs.

"Percival!" she's saying, her voice sounding equal parts worried and outraged. "You've been gone since yesterday evening with no word of where you've gone. Did you ever think to let your wife know you were even alive?"

"I'm sorry Kendra." Papa's voice is soft and there's a rustling sound - the sound of him drawing Mama into his arms. "I had to take care of something. Where are the boys?"

"Upstairs. They're still asleep."

Aberforth is out the door before Albus can stop him, flying down the stairs with a cry of "No, we're not Papa!" He comes to a halt before his father and wraps his arms around Papa's waist. "We're awake and we were worried and Albus was trying to tell me everything would be okay, but I didn't believe him. We were scared, Papa."

Papa takes the opportunity to speak when Aberforth takes a gasp for breath. He bends down to his son's eye level and looks up toward the stairs. "Albus, are you awake also?"

Albus opens the door further and appears at the top of the stairs. "Yes, sir."

"Come down. I need to speak with you."

Mama's eyeing all of them with warily when Albus stands before his father, who let's go of Aberforth and turns to Albus. Identical blue eyes meet one another and Papa reaches up to grasp Albus' face in his hands. "Albus, you bright and brilliant little man. You have no idea how proud I am of you."

Something isn't right, Albus knows. Papa doesn't speak like this. He says nothing and chooses to let his father talk.

"You're ten and you're already growing into someone I know I will be incredibly proud of. And I want you to swear you'll do everything within your power and mind to protect your Mama and siblings." Papa's eyes are boring into his own, trying to make his point known. Albus swallows the lump that's growing in his throat and he can't break Papa's gaze. He can't speak. Instead, he nods numbly. Papa gives him a small little smile and pulls both Albus and Aberforth into hugs. "I love you both."

Mama's cuts in. "Percival, what is going on?"

Papa stands and wraps his arms around her, but whatever he intends to say is drowned out by a large banging at the door. Mama jumps and looks around widely, her wand clutched in her hand. Papa gives her one sad look and flicks his wand toward to door. It opens, revealing two strange men at their door. They're dressed in dark robes, obviously wizards, and they step hesitantly into the Dumbledore household.

"Percival Dumbledore?"

"Yes."

One of the men nods. "Do you know why we are here?"

Papa swallows and nods. "I have a feeling, yes."

"Come forward, please," the man says and draws his wand from his coat. Papa does as he's asked and with a crack, there are ropes around Papa's wrists. Mama cries out and starts toward him but a raised hand from one of the gentlemen stops her. "Mrs. Dumbledore, we apologize. Your husband has been charged with the murder of three Muggle teenagers and we are here to take him in."

Mama blinks. " . . . What?"

Aberforth isn't quiet as quiet. "They deserved it!" he cries out and is only stopped when Albus pulls his brother to him and places a hand over his mouth. Aberforth struggles a little and Albus can feel hot tears running across his fingers. He feels himself shaking as well. Papa's being led by the other man now, with his head bowed, looking both defeated and glorious at the same time. Later, Albus would truly understand how incredibly brave his father had been in that moment. Percival Dumbledore's name might have forever been tarnished, but Albus would always remember him as a hero.

Papa's trial is held the next day. He refuses to give an answer to why he murdered the boys - Albus knows if he had, Ariana would possibly be locked in St. Mungos for the rest of her life. Papa is sentenced to life in Azkaban with no possibility of parole. He accepts this with his head held high and the last memory Albus has of his father is Papa turning and giving him one little wink.

Mama can't stand to stay in Mould-on-the-Wold further and she moves the family to a small village called Godric's Hallow. Albus hates it there. He hates the way his mother hides their entire family and doesn't allow her children to play with the locals. He hates the way his baby sister can no longer control her magic and causes havoc on whatever she touches. He hates his father for allowing himself to be thrown in prison.

Most of all, he hates the Muggles. They were unforgivably stupid in their day-to-day business. Albus can never forgive them for what they have done to his family - he never can, and he never will.

Someday, Albus thinks to himself, he will make them pay.


End file.
